


The Punisher Likes Hot Cocoa

by pralinepumpkinseeds



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Christmas Vibes, Comfort, F/M, Mild Fluff, kastle - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-29 02:08:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6354526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pralinepumpkinseeds/pseuds/pralinepumpkinseeds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Matt tells her about his true identity, Karen isn't sure where to go. When she winds up in a graveyard, Frank is there to comfort her and take her home. (long) one-shot</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Punisher Likes Hot Cocoa

“I’m Daredevil.”

                Those two words keep bouncing around in her head. Karen had always suspected that Matt was doing something dangerous during the night. His constant cuts and bruises proved that, and his never-ending stream of excuses should have made her push harder for an answer all those nights ago when she’d asked him what was really going on. The crazy-good hearing, the confidence with which he moved, the way he always knew someone was coming before anyone else in the room, it all made so much sense.

                But it wasn’t an excuse.

                He’d treated Foggy like crap, hovered over Karen and abandoned his best friends. Foggy had been in a hospital room, recovering from being _shot_ , and Matt hadn’t even taken the time to stop in for two seconds and say hi. Yes, he’d been busy, but Foggy was his best friend. And they’d both needed to know that the other was safe, but instead the space between them just continued to grow. Now they were barely speaking to each other, and Karen knew for a fact that they hadn’t bothered to call each other yet today, even though it was Christmas.

                She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting when Matt called her and asked her to meet him at Nelson & Murdock, but it hadn’t been that. She thought maybe that he wanted to apologize for their deteriorating relationship, for all his lies, and in a way he had, but it wasn’t enough. She’d left him standing there in that office only a couple of hours ago, and had been walking around town aimlessly ever since. The streets were illuminated by streetlamps and occasional festive strings of light. As she passed houses and apartments, she could hear families laughing together, sharing in the warmth. But she was out here, in the cold, with no one. Again.

                She walked faster, refusing to let herself think about her family. Not now, not today. Her parents hadn’t called, and she was sure they wouldn’t, and she wouldn’t either. Karen had vowed never to speak to her father again, and planned to stay true to that promise.

                Before she could figure out where she was going, she ended up at a cemetery. It was dimly lit, and the somber headstones seemed to leer at her, reminding her of everything she’d done and her brother. Her poor, sweet brother. Panic and grief start to rise up in her stomach, and it swells in her chest, suffocating her, sending short, staccato sobs into the chilly night air. Karen clutches at her sides, trying to keep the panic contained, but soon she’s grasping wildly and sinking down onto the snow covered ground, cold seeping through her clothes to her bones. The blackness of the cemetery is rushing in on her, consuming her vision, throbbing at the edges of her eyes.

                “M’am,” a gentle voice but gruff, edging at the panic consuming her.

                She twists to face the source of the voice, panic still clawing at her chest.

                “M’am,” This time more urgent, as he hesitantly steps closer to her and then kneels on the ground in front of her.

                “F-Frank,” She sobs, and the panic starts to back away the tiniest bit.

                “ _Karen,_ ” He breathes.

                It’s the first time he’s ever addressed her by her name, and it’s so startling that for a moment she forgets to breathe and her heart skips a beat. He seems to realize it too, because his face softens and looks like he might regret what he’s just done, regret letting her become someone with a name.

                “What’s wrong? What’s happening?”

                He looks so concerned that all she can do is choke out a couple syllables before he puts an arm around her waist and tries to get her to stand up. It doesn’t work—her legs are weak and her panic attack is still making it difficult to breathe. So instead he sits on the ground beside her and waits with her until her breathing returns to normal and the darkness ebbs out of her vision. His presence is comforting, a space of dirt and blood but also the scent of gunpowder and dust, like old books that have been stored in an armory. When her heart slows down, she realizes he’s been softly humming that stupid song he kept playing in her car.

                She starts to laugh now, wiping the tears off her cold cheeks. He stops humming and fixes her with a grin.

                “I told you it’s a good song.”

                Karen laughs again, louder this time, as he croons one of the lyrics. They’re both smiling now but when she catches a glimpse of the cemetery again, her smile falters. His falls and he sighs, serious again.

                “Mind telling me what this was about?” he asks, genuine worry stretched across his tired face.

                She sighs and looks down at her hands. “Do you mind if I go home first?”

                They stand up in silence, Karen apologizing for his now-cold and wet clothes. He brushes the apology off with a grunt and a shrug, and she’s reminded why she trusts him so much. It’s a long walk back to her apartment and they stay mostly silent during it, save for Karen asking him why he was at the cemetery and Frank responding with a simple, “I was keeping an eye on you after you left the law firm. Figured Murdock might make things go a bit haywire.”

                Karen scoffs, even though he’s right, and doesn’t comment that he would’ve had to already be keeping tabs on her if he knew that she was at Nelson & Murdock.

                It isn’t until they’re stepping into her apartment that she realizes what that means.

                “Holy shit,” she breathes. “You know.”

                “About Murdock?” He grunts. “Of course I do. He doesn’t even disguise his damn voice. I’ve known since the trial.”

                “Does he know?”

                “That I know? No. Not yet. Hopin’ to surprise him with that tidbit.” He chuckles. “Should be fun.”

                She hangs her coat up and tosses her boots on the floor. “I’m gonna change into dry clothes. Sorry, I uh, don’t have anything that would fit you.”

                He shrugs. Frank takes off his coat as she changes into warm leggings and a sweatshirt. When she comes out he’s standing in front of her stove, waiting for the tea kettle to scream. Karen walks over to him and sees that he has two mugs out, with instant coffee powder and cocoa mix dumped in them. She smiles. Who would’ve thought that the Punisher liked hot chocolate?

                He waits until they’re sitting in her living room with their drinks to ask her again.

                “What happened?”

                “Just… everything at once. Matt, and all that, and…” Karen sighs and looks up at him sitting across from her in an overstuffed chair. His eyes are steady, unwavering, waiting. She takes a deep breath to steady herself and then she tells him. Everything. She tells him about her brother and killing Wesley, and he barely blinks through it, showing no surprise. She doesn’t bother asking him what he thinks about Wesley, because she knows the bastard deserves it.

                Now his mug is empty, and he sets it down on her coffee table, taking care to put it on a magazine so it won’t leave a mark.

                “That’s a lot to keep inside,” He finally says, his voice grim.

                She nods, and strangely she no longer feels the need to cry, but feels lighter, unburdened.

                “Sorry it’s so dismal in here,” Karen says after a couple of minutes. “I wasn’t exactly in the Christmas mood this year.”

                Frank just smiles. “Christmas isn’t about the decorations. It’s about the people, Karen.”

                They stay up the rest of the night talking about their worst Christmases, and right before she falls asleep Karen says that this one—this one might be her favorite.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!! These two have really been taking over my life lately...  
> Hope you enjoyed it :)


End file.
